History Shorts!
by TARDISTRANSPORT
Summary: Ever wonder how others would fair in the good old Hetalia world? Yep, be prepared for nations new and old, as they muddle along throughout history! Rated T for cursing and some dark themes, along with some OCs and AUs.
1. Chapter 1

History Shorts (Hetalia Style)!

**A/N:** First thing's first, I'll say one thing: _the titles are not sexual innuendos_ unless I say otherwise. I'm also getting a good brush-up on my history while you guys get to read stuff. Depending on my writing, this might not be a good tradeoff, so review and let me know better!

By the way, if anyone wants to offer up a history short idea that they want me to write, fire ahead! I'll take on whatever! :D Common sense is not a commodity after all. Or I'll make like Congress and leave them for someone else. But I most likely won't go through all of them, like things that're too sensitive or too unspecific.

I apologize in advance for any offense I'll cause, because since you're writing about history, especially about the living stereotypes about that country, you're bound to offend someone.

Also, if I'm wrong about anything here, _please _tell me so I can fix it.

H/N stands for Historical Notes. You don't really have to read these, but it does explain the shorts.

I'm going to write this thing kind of like how Mr. Hidekaz Himaruya's wrote/drew Hetalia. In random one shots in story form! :D Not the most original, but hey, it's a good experiment. **UPDATES WILL BE RANDOM! UTTERLY RANDOM! WAHAHAHAHAHA!**

As the Doctor said: "No plan, no plan, now no weapons worth a damn!"

* * *

**The Code of Hammurabi****_  
_**

"...a tooth for a tooth... Are you listening?!" Babylonia gave a light punch towards the shoulder of the other 'listener', who was busy farming the land.

"Ow!" Larsa yelped, rubbing his shoulder through the rough tunic he wore. "What is it old man?" he grumbled.

"My Code," he said proudly, his chin in the air arrogantly. "An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth. Didn't you see how much violence it cut down?"

"That was years ago and you won't stop gushing over it. You're losing by inches now, and I don't see anything extraordinary like that occurring since your new king." Larsa replied sullenly, mouth twisting. Something clicked in his mind, and the city's whole countenance brightened. He gave a sneaky glance at the kingdom. "Oh, a tooth for a tooth did you say?"

Babylonia looked at him in utter shock. "You-You _did _pay attention!" Tears of joy quickly popped into his eyes. "I-I... I should build something to commemorate this moment-" he quickly cut himself off when he noticed the younger's reaction.

Larsa allowed a wide smile to spread across his face as he dropped his winnowing fork*. "Yes, you old crone. I finally did."

He landed a punch on the elder's nose, smiling at the the other country's shock as he staggered back.

A wolfish smile started to grace the country's face, his face still turned away. He started cracking his knuckles dangerously.

"Just remember," he tagged on carelessly, turning around and casually stalking up to the younger. "You started this."

"Bring it on, old man," the city spat and widened his stance. "I'm tired of your _rule_ anyway."

The two flung themselves at each other, kicking up enough dirt to obscure the scene, wild curses piercing through the air.

"I won!" Babylonia shouted triumphantly, foot digging Larsa's head into the dirt and raising an arm victoriously in the air.

And then he was overwhelmed by twenty-six other cities.

* * *

*Winnowing Fork: A… fork-shaped object that separates the grains from chaff

(Thank you Wikipedia :D)

**H/N: **Babylonia is actually the name of the country, while Babylon is the city it's named for.

Whew, now that that's out of the way...

Okay, Hammurabi, King of Babylonia died with a great empire and handed over his rule to his son Samsu-iluna, where the empire then promptly (well, in 9 years kind of way) fell apart. A man named Rim-sin incited a rebellion where, tah-dah, 26 other cities were swept up in. By this point, a rebellion in the south was almost a tradition. A bit like Thanksgiving, actually.

Babylon beat them up for the first year or so and even killed Rim-sin but then another one (called Ilum-ma-ili) killed Samsu-iluna and became the king.

I kinda cheated with this and represented a city or two(…or twenty-seven), but hey, back then city-states were mini-countries! Kinda! ...ish.

And though the Code of Hammurabi might seem harsh by today's standards it was actually created to _cut off _more violence (though it was still _really _harsh). How? Well, it was either lose your eye after blinding someone or killing someone because they ate your apple. And contrary to popular belief, it wasn't actually equal. A noble blinding a peasant could just pay some silver and say it's all good. It went something like 'Oh, sorry I took your eye, here's some silver, because that's how much your eye was worth :D'.


	2. Chapter 2

**Customary and Metric**

"...Yeah dude. Still not getting it." America said, rubbing his head so that pounding headache wouldn't knock him out. He sighed and muttered through gritted teeth. "You'll just have to tell me again."

Britain sighed and shook his head in sheer exasperation. "_Again_?" he said sharply. "I've already explained it to you _five_ times!"

"Well, you'll just have to make it a sixth, 'cause you're not doing it well enough!" America affirmed, thrusting out his chin stubbornly. "Seriously dude, what the heck is the length of a kilometer anyway?"

"And how many feet does a bloody mile have anyway?" Britain challenged, eyes flashing in suppressed anger.

"...good point. But it's just so _complicated_," America whined, dropping his head onto the table with a dull _thwack_.

"How? You only move the decimal point to the prefix! If it's from a metre to a centimetre then you move the decimal two points to the right! Everyone knows this! Who uses customary units anyway?"

"Well, you did! And I was isolated-ish up until the 20th century! I have an excuse!"

"Not much of one since you're the world's cop nowadays," Britain remarked dryly. "Why don't _you_ just get on with the times?"

"Don't you know how much money it takes to change all the measurements?" America threw up his arms in aggravation. "Besides, it'll take me forever!"

Britain took one long look at America. "...It's because you're too lazy, isn't it?"

"Money, dear Britain. Money."

"Find your own actors to quote," he said flatly.

"Fine." America said sullenly. He took a deep breath and yelled at the top of his lungs, "'BRITAIN IS A BAD COOK AND HIS SCONES WERE DUG OUT OF OLD COUCH STUFFING~'" he cracked, laughing at Britain's increasingly ruddy face.

"You_ bloody_–" Britain sputtered, "–that's not a quote!"

"I'm America! Of course it's a–"

Britain lunged at America while the other danced away, chortling at England's face.

"Dude! I didn't know faces could _get_ that color–"

"If you come over here, I'll make your face into colours that even an artist would envy!"

America sprinted out of the room, his obnoxious laugh echoing down the halls with Britain hot on his heels.

* * *

**H/N: **On December 23, 1975 the Metric Conversion Act was passed in the US Congress. This Act states that the US of A's official measurement units is (like the rest of the world) the metric system! Americans behaved the same way anyone else tries to force something on them: Ignoring it!


	3. Chapter 3

**French Prisoners:_  
_**

"So, _Angleterre_..." France said accusingly, throwing a newspaper at England. His eyebrows were twitching and he had a polite—if frozen and radiating malicious intent—smile on his face. "My _prisoners_ aren't good enough for _you_, are they? A letter such as _this–_" he pointed at the newspaper viciously, "–and your whole country is in an uproar!"

"Well, that's not what I mean," England shot back, a dark glare sparkling in his eyes. "Why should _I_ have to deal with your prisoners? You are deporting them—_illegally_, I might add—to me. I won't stand for it. Why should I have to deal with your pond scum?"

"_Pond scum_?!" France demanded indignantly, slamming his hands on a desk. "They are _French_. They are _leagues _above your English people, that is for sure—!"

"This is coming from the country who had 'in the heat of passion' as a legal defense for rape—"

"This coming from the country who had to ban Christmas for a time because they interrupted _Church services—_"

England blushed, his voice crawling up to a yell. "Well you're the country that invented the condom—"

"No that was you!"

"No, it was you!"

"Obviously you are short of memory _Angleterre_ because that was clearly _you_."

"My memory is fine, France, but at least I'm not delusional. Your 'City of Love' is well-named for a reason!"

"_Oui_, but leave Paris out of this–!"

In all their arguing they hadn't realized how close they had gotten to each other. They had their hands up on the table, leaning as far as they could to face each other, their foreheads were almost touching.

Someone knocked tentatively at the door. A young servant boy opened it and saw England and France yelling at each other from kissing distance.

"Um... sirs? Am I interrupting something?" he asked. He did not want to interrupt something between these people, no sir.

Blinking at how they were interrupted, England suddenly realized how close he was to France... Lurching back fiercely and blushing a furious red, he spluttered for the boy to stay, assuring that no he was not interrupting anything, _anything _at all. France just sat back and smirked, shifting his leg so that it touched England's.

England violently jerked his leg back and gave the Frenchman a brief but deadly glare, then focused back on the boy.

"Ohonhonhon..." the Frenchman sniggered playfully in the background.

"What was it you wanted to tell us, lad?" he asked loudly, talking over the frog's croaks.

"Sir, the letter was a hoax."

That shut them both up.

"..._WHAT_?!" the enemies shouted, leaning forwards together toward the poor boy. The serving boy took a nervous step back.

"W-we're trying to find out who the perpetrator is, but so far no luck."

"Wh-who could've done _this_?!" England demanded.

"Yes, where was this letter traced?!" France said with almost the exact same expression that was on England's face. As if noticing this, they gave each other twin glares.

"Stop copying me!" France cried.

"You copied _me_!"

"Obviously you must fix your eyes!"

"As long as I get to fix your _head_!"

The two flung themselves at each other, tumbling onto the ground in a sprawl of limbs.

The servant boy retreated from the room quietly, not wanting to interrupt anything between them.

* * *

_A few years later..._

A door was knocked on urgently. "Sir, I have to come in!" the same servant boy, now grown, called.

"Alright," a distracted voice came inside.

The servant boy let himself in, and blinked. The man looked exactly the same, besides the fact that he was sipping tea, but he shook it off. Orders are orders. "Sir, do you remember that hoax letter a few years ago?"

"The one that almost caused another war between France and me? Of course," he said, not looking up from a book.

"Well, we found out who the hoaxer was."

"Hmm?" England raised an eyebrow as he sipped his tea, indicating the serving boy to go on.

"It was Benjamin Franklin, sir."

He spewed his tea all over the book. "What?!"

* * *

**H/N:** **Read this, if nothing else - **To be honest, I'm not sure if this was an actual hoax. I've been digging around the internet for this, but there's no sources backing this up (except for reddit). Take it with a grain of salt and just enjoy the story for now. :)

Anyway, here's the story. Once upon a time a letter was sent to a London newspaper complaining about how England had to take deported prisoners from France. English people were outraged, and French people fought back because that English uproar implied that the English were too good for French prisoners. Even the _governments_ _of_ _both countries_ got _really _involved before they all found out it was a hoax.

It just so happened that Benjamin Franklin went to England as an ambassador during the late 18th century. And you know. He was bored. So he sent a letter and nearly provoked a war. Though honestly it wasn't that hard since England and France are... England and France.

And the best part? Franklin did it back in the colonies. He wrote letters to a newspaper under the pseudonym 'Silence Dogood' complaining about Harvard kids and how the only thing they learn is how to act like stuck-up snobs, along with making fun of all the drunk men passed out by the beer hoses (this was basically America's stereotype back then). 'Silence' actually won over a lot of guys (who thought he was a girl) and some of them tried proposing to her when 'she' revealed she was a widow.


	4. Chapter 4

**I Declare War on Neptune!**

**A/N: **I HAVE NO OBLIGATIONS NOW! FRICKIN' SUMMER! YEEEESSSSS!

* * *

"…What are you doing?"

"GAAHHH!" Rome yelled, spinning around and brandishing his spear. "Oh, Gallia, it's just you…" he sighed in relief, lowering his weapon.

"…It's _Gaul_," she said irately. She looked at him up and down curiously, noting that he was soaked in seawater and that his legs were lightly coated in sand. Rome was in his full battle armor, and nervously shifting from one foot to another. There was no one else in sight. She sighed at him. "What—"

"Gallia, you're looking as beautiful as always!" Rome interrupted, almost eagerly as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Your hair is as glowing as the twinkling of the stars and your _astounding_ blue eyes as luminous as the sea! I _miss_ your old habit of fighting naked—"

She swiftly gave a sweeping kick to his legs, knocking him down onto the beach. He curved his neck so he could see her. She gave him a quietly playful lopsided smile. "_Gaul_," she whispered.

He groaned and mumbled something under his breath, dropping his head back onto the wet sand.

"Now, what were you doing on the beach?" she asked, leaning down by his head.

He started looking wildly around, anywhere but at Gaul for once. His face was beginning to turn a deep red.

"W-well…" he stammered out. "I-It's just…"

"Yes?" she said, smiling sweetly.

He began squirming, as if trying to burrow deeper into the sand. "M-my boss… declared war… on… Neptune," he said, voice getting progressively quieter with each word.

Gaul stared at him. Rome was growing even redder.

"…Your boss declared war on the sea?"

Rome nodded.

"So _that's _what you were doing with your spear?"

Rome nodded, miserable.

She let out a peal of wild laughter, falling down to sit in the sand next to him.

Rome looked at her grumpily. "You don't have to sound so happy. I'm your boss now."

"I-I'm sorry, 'boss'," she said, still sniggering. "I haven't found much to be happy about nowadays."

Rome let out a big smile. "I can change that!" he said happily. He got his arm around her shoulder again, willing out sparkles from the ether in his eagerness, laughing blithely.

Gaul blinked, her long lashes fluttering in a way that drove him wild. Her full lips curved into a small, surprisingly vulnerable smile, and her blue eyes glittered as they grew the tiniest bit soft.

Then she slapped him on the face.

"There was a firefly on your cheek," she said sweetly.

* * *

"Ohohoho~ Come back here, let me plunder your riches!"

"Nnhmmhmm! Maybe later!"

* * *

**H/N:** I feel slightly bad with how I portrayed Rome at the time, but let's just say that when Caligula was in power, he wasn't exactly going to be badass. Also, the Celts (the Gauls were also Celts) sometimes fought naked. At the time of the Neptune war, Gaul had already been conquered by Rome in the Gallic Wars and named the region _Gallia_. And now you know where France's stripper habits come from! :D

Also, it's a head canon of mine that Rome was scared of some of his _bad _emperors. Seriously, one of Caligula's quotes were: _"Rome is but a city of necks waiting for me to chop."_

...Would you really want your personification meeting this guy?

So! 'Caligula' is actually a nickname, meaning 'little boot' on account of the fact that he was basically the Roman army's unofficial mascot as a kid. His mom paraded him around to get him acquainted with the army he'll later rule. He hated the nickname. Actually, his full name was Gaius Julius Caesar Augustus Germanicus. Oh Latin naming conventions, how I love you.

Later his father died (according to Suetonius, poisoned by his uncle Tiberius). Then his mother and his brother (later, he died in exile) were banished (because of Tiberius). He lived with his great-grandmother, and _she _died. His other brother was charged of treason, and _he _died. All this happened when he was a kid to adolescent. Then he and the rest of his sisters that survived had to live under the dude who ruined his life, Emperor Tiberius, basically as prisoners for years.

Yeah. It's kinda understandable why he went crazy later on.

When Caligula became emperor, he was actually a pretty good ruler, diminishing the power of the Senate and giving more power and enjoyment to the people. Things only started going terribly wrong after he fell sick. When he woke up, he saw the captain of his bodyguard coaching his adoptive son on how to be an emperor, leading him to realize how replaceable he'd been. Thus begins his reign of fear. Or, you know, he just went crazy from sickness.

There's actually a bit of a dispute as to whether Caligula was _really _crazy or not. After all, history is written by the winners, and Romans happen to be unreliable as historians. He could've just been _really _disdaining to the rich guys (who happen to know how to write) and wanted to humiliate his army.


	5. Chapter 5

**There's No Place Like Home**

_Warning: This is an AU_

* * *

Today was the day that stupid jerk would come back. Lovino was tapping a foot impatiently, a small eagerness passing through him. It's been a while since he'd seen him. He's sent way too many letters that said he'd come back today. If he would. H-he didn't need that idiot around anyway if he didn't!

(…To be honest, he didn't think he'd be this glad...)

So he sat in front of the big doors in the giant parlour that his 'father' insisted on having. All the while hoping that his 'father' would come back. Puffing out his cheeks stubbornly, he engaged in a staring contest between him and the door. Lovino resolved that the door would only win if the stupid jerk didn't come back.

If he didn't… he didn't know what he'd do.

* * *

Antonio Fernandez Carriedo couldn't wait to see his kid again! He tapped his foot impatiently against the floor of the carriage before giving up and pacing inside, trying to ignore the growing pain in his neck as it was forced to cock at a weird angle. He couldn't wait to tell Lovino about the amazing New World and he won't let something like a slow carriage delay him! The kid was too cute to keep waiting!

"Faster!" Antonio barked at the carriage driver. The driver responded with a grunt that carried over three horses and a sharp crack of a whip. Sighing and combing a hand irritatedly through his wild hair, he finally peeked out the window and nearly squealed when he saw how close to his massive estate he was. Fairly jumping up and down, completely forgetting his neck, he near screamed to his driver, "Faster faster _faster_!" Antonio called, grinning wildly.

He couldn't wait to see Lovino again. He briefly fantasized, breathing heavily and smiling rather… questionably.

He was so close!

* * *

_One hour later…_

Antonio took a deep breath of his beloved Spanish air, breathing in the sunlight and the smell of the sea. The New World was amazing, but it was nothing like the good smell of home.

He opened the doors and found Lovino giving him a formidable glare.

Of course, he didn't notice, because he was already rushing in to give his kid a big hug.

Yelping and caught completely off guard, Lovino was already screaming curses and profanities, Antonio equally oblivious to them.

"You're back!" Lovino said, almost eagerly once Antonio disentangled himself from the poor kid before turning away once more. "Tch! Bastard! You took your time!"

"You've grown so tall!" Antonio said, gushing. "I swear on my honour that it was yesterday that you were running around and wetting sheets!"

"B-bastard! That was a squirrel! A _squirrel_!"

Laughing, Antonio reached for a hug again. Lovino stiffened, before gradually returning it, blinking his eyes rapidly.

"Oh!" Antonio darted for the door, calling, "I have something for you~"

Lovino didn't get his 'father'. He stared bewildered as the door shut behind him.

D-did that mean… the door won in the end? Was that jerk—

Of course, by then, Antonio was kicking the door open again, cheerfully oblivious.

"Lovino~! I have something for you~!" Antonio was carrying a small box with him. Plopping it on top of a table, he motioned gently for Lovino to come over.

Discreetly wiping the corners of his eyes, Lovino made his way to look at the curious box.

Grinning, Antonio opened the box and scooped out a… a thing. A lot of things.

They were a light beige colour, shaped like a raindrop. It was flattened and tiny.

"What is it?" Lovino asked, curious despite himself.

"These are 'tomato' seeds!" Antonio said excitedly. "They're from the New World! It's absolutely amazing, Lovino, they have so much new _stuff _in the New World, everything from new plants to new species of animals and people! There are so many new sights, new sights that you wouldn't believe! Especially the mountains of gold and silver…" A fleck of greed ran through his eyes. "_So _much gold and silver…"

"…Is that why you went there?" Lovino asked quietly, looking away.

"Yes! Isn't all this stuff great?" Antonio replied, grinning that wild grin.

"…I _hate_ you!" Lovino cried. He ran away, fleeing from Antonio's shocked eyes.

"L-Lovino…" Running after the child, Antonio reached for him… just in time for the door to his child's bedroom shut in his face. "Lovino! Open up! Please!"

"Go away!"

"W-What…?" Antonio stepped back from the door in shock. "What's wrong?"

"_Two years_!" he cried from behind the door. "It's been_ two years _and you left me because you wanted new plants and rocks!" There was a heavy thump from behind the door, and Antonio quickly took the chance to open it.

He saw Lovino curled up in the blankets of his bed, sobbing quietly. Antonio felt a piercing guilt lance through his heart. Cautiously, he made his way to crying boy, collecting him in his arms. Lovino clung to Antonio, weeping into his chest.

"Shh, shh _mi beb__é_," Antonio whispered, stroking Lovino's hair. "I'm sorry."

"_Pap__à_," Lovino choked out, stifled from Antonio's shirt. "_Fratello_. Why did they leave me?"

Antonio merely bowed his head, rocking the boy even closer until he fell peacefully asleep in his arms.

* * *

Lovino woke up and with a jerk when he saw his 'father' sitting in a chair hunched over his bed, almost on top of him. Out of pure reflex, he head butted the bastard and then they were both crying.

"Lovino!" Antonio cried out, hand to his head. "It's too early in the morning for this!"

"S-shut up!" Lovino yelled back. "I-I didn't know you'd be there!"

At that, Antonio stilled, a sad smile on his face and reached out a hand to cradle Lovino's face. "I'm here now."

_"I'm here now_."

Those words echoed in Lovino's head, making it spin dizzyingly around. _I won't be alone anymore, _he thought, a tentative hope warming his heart, the first time in... the first time. Something trailed down his face and before long, he was bawling again, his f... his f-father's arms already around him and wiping the tears away when a loud growl erupted.

Antonio sheepishly put his hand to his stomach, his other arm still around Lovino. "Sorry, _niño_, I haven't eaten since yesterday. Come with me to the kitchen." There was a light, questioning tone to it, letting Lovino decide.

Lovino didn't even hesitate as he hopped out of bed and tugged at Antonio's hand impatiently. "Well?" he demanded. "Hurry up!"

Antonio laughed and allowed himself to be dragged away. When they opened the door, the sun flashed into his eyes through his wide window and he winced, covering his eyes and looking down.

He saw Lovino smile for the first time since he arrived.

* * *

Spanish:

_Mi bebé_ - My baby

_Niño - _Kid

Italian:

_Papá - _Papa

_Fratello _- Brother

PURELY SELF INDULGENT. I don't have H/N's guys! I am seriously freaking out!


	6. Chapter 6

**Don't Pick Up Strays:**

"_Ve~_! Germany, what are you doing?" Italy asked cheerfully, popping over the stern blond's shoulder.

Germany gave a grunt, acknowledging his presence but completely focused on his paperwork.

"Germany!" Italy began poking his cheek to get his attention. "What are you doing?"

"Economy," Germany said, vaguely annoyed, twitching his head away from the finger. "I think I feel a cold coming on. It might be because of... _inflation._"

Italy bobbed his head. "Well, the best way to cure a cold is to smell fresh air, you know!" he said knowingly. "Do you want to walk outside with me Germany?"

Germany gazed at his paperwork longingly. "No Italy. How about you go outside? There's some good woods to the east of here. Maybe you could go out there and chase some squirrels or something."

"Eh? But I want to go with you!"

"There are pretty ladies in the woods, Italy."

"Really? _Arrivederci_!" he called, waving his hand as he walked towards the door.

Germany sighed in relief. "Now I can work on the inflation…" he muttered, readying his pen with a dark glint in his eye. "You won't get _me _this time _Herr Inflation_, oh no…"

* * *

_A little while later…_

"Germany, there weren't any pretty ladies in the woods!" Italy despaired, opening the door noisily, holding something in one hand.

The blond nation's shoulder's slumped, still focused on the paperwork. "Welcome back, Italy."

"So how's the work?" he asked curiously, peering over his shoulder. "Ah! Here you go Germany! I found it in the woods!" He tossed the object in his hands on top of the desk. "I thought you might like it!"

For a moment, Germany just stared at the object incomprehensively, trying to place where he'd seen it. It was small and had grooves designed for gripping, as well as a pin still in. It was something from World War I… or II—

"A GRENADE?!" he shouted, shoving his chair away from his desk frantically. "ITALY, WHERE DID YOU FIND THAT?!"

"It was in the woods you told me about!" he answered, clueless about why Germany was acting that way.

"_SCHEI—" _Germany sprinted out of the room yelling, "I NEED MY MANUEL ON GREANDE DISABLING!"

He passed by Prussia in the hall, who was drawn to the loud noises in his house. He chuckled and sauntered relaxedly into the room, his '_kesesese_' filling the air. "Boy, you two are lively today!" he remarked cheerfully. "What're you doi—"

He took one look at the grenade at his brother's desk and ran out of the room, screaming, "WEEEEEEST, WHERE'S THE MANUEL ON DISABLING GRENADES?!"

"...Where are you two going?" Italy asked, trailing after the two of them.

* * *

**Italian:**

_Arrivederci _- See you later

**German:**

_Herr Inflation_ - Mister/Sir Inflation

**N: **Since Germany was the sight of 2 World Wars, you can still find stray grenades that failed to explode in the woods, or heck, even in the urban areas. And yes, they can still explode now, and they're sometimes enough of a hazard that bomb-disabling squads are still around. There's probably some in other countries with the same issues, but I know for sure it's in Germany.

Also, one reason Germans has a really good economy is because they're _extremely _controlling on inflation and this is basically because of the Treaty of Versailles, where Germany's economy basically tanked, hit the floor, _destroyed_ the floor and found out that there was an underworld to sink lower to. Money was absolutely useless and people used it as tinder. Actually just... look at these exchange rates.

**Early 1922**: 1 USD = 320 _Deutsche Mark  
_**December 1922**: 1 USD = 800 _Deutsche Mark_

This next one's gonna hurt.

Do you guys seriously want to hear this? Just warning you...

Beyond this point there be monsters!

**November 1923:** One, _just one _USD = _4,210,500,000 Deutsche Marks._

Therefore I think it's fair to say that Germany is afraid of inflation because _look at it. _


End file.
